


Fire Back On Your Tongue

by xax



Category: Static Shock
Genre: Body Horror, Dubious Consent, Immolation, M/M, PWP, Shapeshifting, Slime, Superpowers, Tentacles, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xax/pseuds/xax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotstreak has a plan for what to do with the last canister of bang gas and it involves going straight through Ebon. Things don't go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Back On Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> uh. Look, if you're looking for a justification for _why_ I wrote this, well... you won't find one. Sometimes you just want to write the most grotesquely overwrought sex scene ever.
> 
> Or at least, sometimes _I_ want to do that.

Hotstreak couldn't fucking believe it. The bang baby cure was all through the city, stealing away all their powers. Stealing _his_ powers. But he wasn't gonna take it, and he was a step ahead of everyone else. Ebon, that idiotic asshole, had gotten his grimy little hands on a canister of bang gas — the _last_ canister — and he'd let it slip just when and where he planned to set it off. The plan was for it to be just for Ebon and his groveling little cronies, a second Bang special for them. Ebon had a lot of plans, and he'd let them slip one too many times. And now he was here to wreck 'em.

The place was a listing wreck on the docks, a huge old tanker no one wanted to deal with. Ebon had decided to organize his little get-together inside. Hotstreak's powers had been dwindling for days, down to sparks and smoke, and as he entered the derelict tanker even that last gasp went. He felt cold. But he didn't need powers to take Ebon down. He'd been better than that punk before everything, and he sure as hell was gonna be better than him after.

Ebon'd posted guards, but he took them down with ease. He didn't even know who they were; maybe they were fellow bang babies ( _former_ bang babies now) or maybe they were just some hoods Ebon'd taken a liking to. Whatever. It didn't matter to him.

The ship was dark and empty, but Hotstreak still snuck down the corridors, listening for the clang of other feet. It didn't take long to track his way down to the hold, where Ebon was rallying his thugs. Although it took him a second to even realize which one was Ebon. Ebon's — "Ivan" now, he figured — powers had gone, just like everyone else's, and now instead of a tall, looming figure made from shadow and darkness, he was just some scrawny black guy. Maybe a little tall.

He was ranting and raving, talking about his lunatic plan for future, owning the city, his whole fantasy of being important and having people fear him. Hotstreak just waited until he showed the canister.

Someone else had been waiting for that moment too. Something clattered and rolled down the far stairs before exploding into smoke, and in the instant before the room was enveloped Hotstreak saw the unmistakable forms of Static and Gear step out from the far hall.

Ivan had some brain left in him; he booked it straight away from the two, but that meant he was headed straight _for_ him. Hotstreak blindsided him as he dashed through the door, bashing him against the wall and grabbing that gas canister from his slack, twitching fingers (Ivan didn't look too good — but he probably didn't look well either) and ran off through the corridors as Ivan howled after him.

Ivan's feet clanged loud against the metal deck, and Hotstreak cursed him as he ran, knowing that Static and Gear must be just behind. It was only small satisfaction to know that their powers were just as weak now, sparks and the left-over remnants of Gear's supposed genius.

Ivan cursed him, spitting out insults between ragged breaths, and Hotstreak smirked as Ivan's breathing got more and more uneven, until he was gasping as he tried to keep up with him. Ivan'd always been a little thin and sickly, not exactly the best at running. He was unexpectedly worn out, too: covered in a cold sweat, breath coming fast, legs aching. The counteragent was really running a number on him. But it'd been worth it, and now that he had the bang gas he wouldn't have to worry about it ever again.

He turned into a dim corridor, almost pitch black, and then ducked into the nearest doorway. It was a bare, empty room. The only light was from a single small porthole on the wall, giving him a view of the river. He'd wanted to get out of the ship before using the gas, but... Ebon would've set people to watch the docks, make sure no one left.

If he still had his powers, he'd be able to just rip through the hull and dive into the river, but he didn't. He looked down at the canister in his arms — tear gas, it said, and then a mess of warnings and manufacturer's labels. Thinking back to that night... the bang gas sure hadn't been _pleasant_ to take. But it was something he'd just have to handle. He looked towards the door, wondering if he should close it. Who knew who was around, and making that much noise might be a bad idea. What he really needed was something to keep it closed, anyway.

He shook his head, turning away, and a fraction of a second after his eyes were off the hallway Ivan leapt out of the doorway and slammed his fist into his cheek.

Hotstreak jerked to the side, smacking Ivan across the face with the gas canister, cursing, and then Ivan tried to tackle him, still grasping for the canister. They tumbled back across the floor, Ivan punching him across the face and chest until Hotstreak slammed him back against the floor, pinning his shoulders down as he bashed the canister against his head with a sick crack.

Ivan kicked at him, his aim wildly off, digging into his ribs, and Hotstreak jerked back just far enough for Ivan to flip him over, his pupils different sizes and blood trickling down his forehead. Ivan tackled him and the canister flew from his hands as Ivan tried to punch his throat, deflected in the same motion that ended with Hotstreak's arms wrapped around his throat, his thumbs pushing against his Adam's apple.

He only dimly noticed the sharp bang of the gas canister crashing to the ground cap-first, and even after that he ignored the shrill hissing in preference to grinning up at Ivan, his eyes bugging out as he choked him.

Ivan punched him in the jaw, knocking him back, and then sprung at him with an angry yell. They went tumbling across the floor like two angry cats until they crashed against the wall. They'd both _noticed_ the can spraying everywhere, the heavy gas settling to the ground like mist and billowing up in tufts as they tumbled through them, but it wasn't as important as killing each other, even if its burning smoke made them cough and gasp, their eyes stinging and watering. They were already in pretty bad condition, Ivan's breath ratting, blood trickling down his face; Hotstreak bruised across his chest and face, his eye already darkening into what was bound to be an impressive black eye.

Hotstreak grabbed Ivan's shoulders and slammed him to the ground, his hands curling around his neck and squeezing. Ivan's gasp choked off, his face flushing hotter and hotter as Hotstreak kept throttling him. His eyes bulged. Ivan lurched, uselessly straining against him — without his powers he was just some scrawny fuck — and Hotstreak just ignored his increasingly weak blows, glancing across his sides and legs, pathetic little kicks and punches that would barely even bruise.

Ivan's entire body lurched, sinking down against the floor. Hotstreak gripped tighter, digging his blunt fingernails into the metal deck. Ivan's throat _bulged_ , his skin bloating out around Hotstreak's fingers, damp with sweat. It stretched over his fingers, folding in wide strips as his fingers actually started to sink inside his neck, his thumbs sinking in past his collapsed trachea.

It folded out over his fingers, not how any skin ever moved, and Hotstreak jerked his hands back reflexively in revulsion, wiping them on his shirt to get the dry, stretchy feeling off. Ivan sunk deeper, visibly sinking into the deck. His skin darkened, purpling in uneven splotches like bruises, spreading all across his body. He jerked to the side, sliding through the deck in short, abrupt motions, and surfaced a fraction of a second later, gasping and choking.

Hotstreak leapt at Ivan again, shoving him back. His head made a hollow clang as it hit the wall, and he followed it up with a few punches to the stomach. Ivan felt soft to the touch, like his muscles had already been mashed into paste. Hotstreak kept him pinned, Ivan choking and grunting as he slammed his fists again and again into his stomach. Ivan's bones felt strange, bending and catching the impact instead of just cracking as Hotstreak crashed his knuckles against his floating ribs.

Ivan's gasps thinned out, Hotstreak's ears ringing with the steady, deafening thump of his own heartbeat, his own rasping breath just barely audible under the hammering thrum of blood rushing through his veins. His hands flickered and smoked. Tufts of fire ran along his knuckles, around his balled fists as he kept punching Ivan. His hands blazed brighter, flaring into bright fireballs, and Ivan's shirt went up in a smoldering blaze, only revealing his inhumanly dark skin, mottled the impossible purple of bang powers. Ivan thinned around him, his body stretching and warping, and then suddenly he was gone and Hotstreak's next punch slammed his fist against the wall, bloodying his knuckles. He cursed and stepped back, snarling at the pain as his blood burnt up. He smelled like a bonfire. He'd missed that.

The room was so thick with bang gas he couldn't even see the far wall, just the formless dark purple gas. It'd hurt the first time; he'd choked and gasped and hacked, eyes streaming. Now it'd faded; his eyes were streaming and his skin felt hot, but it was nothing like the first time, breathing it in like air. He could feel it inside him, hot in his lungs, puffing out in every rapid, shallow breath.

He scanned across the room, looking for a darker eddy in the fog that could be Ebon. It was a mess of shifting nonsense shapes; he couldn't make anything out and then Ebon slammed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground.

He managed to roll over before Ebon grabbed his hair, fingers stretching and curling around his skull, squeezing it like a ripe melon. Ebon slammed his head back against the deck, then pulled him up and did it again. He was back to his old self, darkness all over, eddies of purple shadow skewing out around him. Hotstreak grit his teeth and lit himself on fire.

His hair blazed up, whipping and snapping, and Ebon jerked back like he'd been burnt. Hotstreak reached for him — Ebon was shit at pinning him down, even as a formless shadow — with his hands alight, flame sizzling and snapping up along his forearms as he grabbed his sides. Ebon jerked back, his shadow thinning, curling away like burning paper, ragged hollows forming across his body as the heat and the light pushed him back.

Hotstreak lurched to his feet, bodily throwing Ebon off him, but Ebon slid smoothly to the side and pressed up against his back, hands winding around and around his neck and squeezing. Hotstreak gasped right before Ebon gripped down, loops of fingers all digging into his throat. The gas in his lungs burned fiercer, his heartbeat pounding through his body so strongly he shook, soundlessly choking and spluttering. He saw white sparks across his field of view, flashing, strobing lights going off as the edges of his sight faded out.

He shoved back against Ebon, trying to slam him onto his back, but Ebon just opened himself up, forming a dark, bleak shadow inside himself that Hotstreak almost hurled himself into. He sunk inside slowly, Ebon's body giving him _some_ resistance. He curled his lips in a snarl and let himself go, fire bursting out of him like he'd exploded, streaks of flame shooting out of him in all directions.

Ebon yelled, something he couldn't hear over the crackle and snap of fire all around him, and his grip released, thinning and fading away. Hotstreak let himself burn; it'd been so long since he'd felt this strong. That fucking bang cure had been around for months, slowly sapping his powers. He hardly remembered what it was like, to cover himself entirely in flame, like a demon from the depths of hell. The fire billowed up across his body, streaking along his legs and arms, coming out of his head in a wild plume, scorching the ceiling until it glowed with a dull heat. Hotstreak could just imagine shoving Ebon up against it and grinning while he burnt away.

He died down after a moment, the flame flickering to a more manageable level. He carried his power with him; it felt like an explosion in his chest, a core of heat like the hottest point of a fire, where things glowed white hot. Now he _really_ smelled like a bonfire; all he could smell was the burnt-smoke smell after it died down, with the undercurrent of hot metal.

He swallowed. It hurt. The room was less fogged with gas; whether it had burnt away or dispersed or they'd just sucked it all into themselves, he had no idea. But it was a thick mist, shading the edges of Ebon's body. He was anchored to the floor, his lower body a shapeless stretched pillar.

"Look at you." Ebon said, stretching taller, smirking down. "Bare-ass naked and acting like a big man just 'cause you can start a few sparks." He voice sounded hoarse, ringing deeper than before, back to his usual mocking tone.

Hotstreak glared at him, shuffling a half-step forward with his fists raised. He hadn't even noticed; he _was_ naked, he'd burnt off his clothes. "Don't need clothes to kill you." His throat ached as he spoke.

He darted for Ebon, but he slid away, body warping and twisting to the side, and then he was gone again, lost in the haze of bang gas filling the room. Even if Ebon was right in front of him he wouldn't be able to see him.

Hotstream was breathing hard, breath pluming out as a clearer trail through the thick haze. He felt a shock of flame on his head as his hair lit up again, but this time it burst like an inferno, burning straight up to the ceiling, and smaller explosions burst to life down his spine until he had a long mane of fire, heating the already hot and stifling air to scorching.

Ebon twisted around him, suddenly there, the floor and wall becoming so dark they positively dripped, and Hotstreak reached out, his arms still up, hands curled into fists. "Running away already, you punk?" he called, grabbing at Ebon's arm as he sunk into the wall. "I'll—" he started, his voice cutting off as it felt like his head exploded. It didn't hurt, but it was so visceral it felt like he should hear fragments of his skull bouncing off the walls. The fire spread into his head, so hot he felt dizzy and feverish. He staggered back and stumbled to the ground, his bare ass smacking against the solid metal deck unforgivingly.

The fire spread inside him, burning through his blood, and when he opened his mouth to gasp he shot out a plume of flame on the exhale, fire licking across his mouth as he panted for breath.

His muscles all jerked, trembling and then spasming uncontrollably, and Hotstreak had a single white-hot panicked moment thinking of seizures and hospitals before his skin burst into flame, his muscles going slack in the heat. He sprawled on the ground, heart hammering in his chest, feeling too weak to even stand up. But he could slowly feel _something_ inside him, the burning heat of the fire intensifying and turning into something different. His skin swelled, like an allergic reaction, his pale skin going red and flushed, shiny and swollen, and whatever it was kept going across his entire body, until he could barely move his skin was stretched so tightly across his frame. The pain traveled inside him, delving down through his muscles until it hit bone. He would have yelled if he could, but it was so sharp and sudden all he could do was lie there, panting and whimpering as the fire spread all around him.

Dimly, though, the haze, he could see Ebon circling around him, the heat and light enough to keep him away, but then the pain surged up again and he just stopped seeing. The pain turned into throbs, deep body-wracking jolts in time with his heartbeat, racing back and forth through his entire body. He felt swollen and heavy, dizzy and disoriented, and dimly all he could think of was getting up and going somewhere else, anywhere that wasn't this small room full of bang gas. His body suddenly felt like cooperating and he managed to stagger up, listing back and forth like he was drunk, eventually slamming into a wall and clinging there for dear life.

He was striped like a zebra — his skin was seamed with wide, ragged stripes, a dull red against his pale skin. They spanned his shoulders and chest, darker across his stomach and thighs, looking almost bloody. He clenched his hands into fists, just barely able to flex his swollen fingers, and even then his heartbeat pounded solidly through his flushed, engorged skin.

The swelling in his skin died down just as the ache in his body reached his peak, all his muscles feeling strained, on fire like he'd just sprinted a mile, and it was all he could do to not pass out. He steadied himself against the wall, finally noticing that the ceiling looked lower now, that his hands were big enough to use the girder along the side of the room as a guiderail when before it had been at his shoulder, an entire handspan tall.

He stepped away from the wall, body still inflamed and muscles still one big throbbing ache, but this time when he looked down at himself in addition to the vivid stripes across his entire body he noticed how much _bigger_ he was. The stretch marks were all over his body, seaming wide across his arms and back, so red he expected them to start oozing blood any second.

He worked out, he knew all about muscle size and what it took to feed them, and he kept himself in peak condition. But what he was now... there wasn't anyone alive who could match him, not even the ridiculous bodybuilders who took steroids to look impressive. His muscles were _huge_ , his biceps bigger than his head, his forearms as thick around as his thighs had been. He could probably lift a car. Hell, he could probably punch through the reinforced iron door if he really felt like it. He felt across his stomach, each of his abdominals cut and defined like he was sculpted out of fuckin' marble, the bright stretch marks painfully sensitive to the touch, and then down further to his cock, hanging low and thick between his thighs, and the spark of arousal when he actually touched it sizzled up and down his spine.

"Hey, Ebon!" he yelled at the empty room, still foggy with bang gas. "Come out and get it, huh! I'll take your ass down!"

Ebon was never one to refuse a challenge, and suddenly the room was full of him, shadow welling up in the corners, cords of it spiraling together until Ebon was there in front of him, just like before, matte black with a grey shroud for clothes. Hotstreak snarled at him and lunged, his fists blazing up like comets. Ebon let himself take the punch, the fire digging into his chest, and then he grabbed Hotstreak and tossed him to the ground, grinning over him as he curled up and cursed, long scratches across his back.

Ebon spilled down, his body dissolving away and reforming over Hotstreak, and he grabbed him by the neck and lifted him one-armed, his arm bulging into sloppy cords, darkness webbing between the filaments of what had been his arm, the massive limb as big as the entire rest of his body, but by that time Hotstreak had recovered and threw himself on top of Ebon, fire running all the way up his arms and pluming out as he punched into Ebon, burning his body away like old paper, dissolving into the deck. He twisted around, kicking in a wide circle as Ebon pushed himself up from the deck again, reforming just in time to get Hotstreak's foot to his face, bending him back as Hotstreak tore at his body.

Hotstreak pulled Ebon up and shoved him against the wall, slamming his entire body weight against Ebon's, grinding up, lifting him off his feet as he clawed into him, tearing through his dark flesh. The shadow parted under his light and heat. Hotstreak felt flushed, heat trailing down his chest, and he grabbed Ebon's arm and _pulled_. As the jagged rent across Ebon's shoulder stretched into a horrific tear through his torso, he felt his cock twitch and lengthen.

Ebon's arm pulled free from the rest of his body with a dry tear, Ebon howling in anger as much as in pain, and Hotstreak tossed it to the side, slamming one burning hand into his other shoulder, slamming into the wall behind and denting it. Ebon shuddered around his hand, his face turned away, yelling something he couldn't bother to pay attention to, shadows reaching up around him to try and pull him back. He bore forward, the metal under his hand heating red-hot as he kept Ebon pinned against it, the hole in his shoulder widening as he practically melted away.

Hotstreak let out a low growl, his hot skin hypersensitive, air billowing around him from the fire streaking over half his body, his cock hard and grinding against what was left of Ebon's lower body as he tore up through his shoulder, his other arm flapping down at exactly the same time the shadows around him pulled tight and yanked him back, slamming him to the deck with a crash.

The shadows around him thickened, deeper and darker, melting away as he turned up the flame but staying, Ebon in front of him as he tried to put himself together, arms growing back unevenly as he staggered forward, focused on the now-huge ropes of shadow all over his arms and legs.

Hotstreak let out a grunt that was disturbingly close to a moan, his cock achingly hard as the loops of shadow twisted high up on his thighs, erect and jutting straight up from his body.

"You're hard," Ebon said, his voice an angry growl, and Hotstreak didn't know; didn't care how he meant it. He jerked against his restraints, the shadow thinning, and Ebon splayed over him, shoving his new arms into the shadows across him, thickening them faster. He jerked up against Ebon, not even on purpose, and his cock smacked across his body, sliding across his rubbery skin, the tip dimpling across his chest and pushing inside, suddenly enveloped inside Ebon's shadow. It was dry and cool and smooth, but Ebon made a choked noise and pulled back, Hotstreak's cock pulling out of him and twitching in the hot air, streaked with dark slime in addition to precome.

They jerked away from each other, panting hard. Hotstreak looked down and grimaced. His chest was splattered with Ebon's gross shadowy slime — it felt dry and cool and hard even as it slopped and dripped all over where the ropes had held him — in long streaks across his muscles. He wiped a finger through the mess on his chest and it dripped slowly down to the ground. "You're one to talk, you freak."

"It's tiny," Ebon said, like that was a devastating insult.

"You're a pathetic loser."

They clashed together again, but this time it was a little less violent; Ebon could take a lot of abuse and he didn't even seem to _mind_ Hotstreak slamming him against the wall and ripping his arms off. Ebon slid across his back, cool and prickling, his shapeless body splaying across, inside, over Hotstreak's. Inside he was soft and firm at the same time, like parts of him were denser or thicker than others; it was nothing at all like touching anyone else. But they pulled back after a moment, still so close they were almost touching, Hotstreak bleeding from a cut on his lip when Ebon had headbutted him; Ebon's arms thin and mostly burnt away.

He'd seen Ebon's cock before; like _way_ before, back before he wasn't a spooky shadowy supervillain. He was long and thin. Hotstreak, if he thought about it, which he had, like, _once_ , thought it fit his build: tall and scrawny. But as Ebon stripped — not even stripped, just melted the grey shroud around him that looked like clothes, a little — his cock swung up, erect, and it was bigger than anything Hotstreak had even seen before. It looked like Ebon should have just tipped over. It was the entire length of his chest; the thick, fat head bumped up against the lines of his collarbone and left behind glistening black threads. And it was as big around as one of Hotstreak's forearms, the really thick part near the elbow. Ebon's arms were little toothpicks; his cock was bigger around than his _thigh_.

Hotstreak just laughed. "Man, you musta been glad when you got your powers 'cause it meant you could stretch out your little pencil dick." Ebon scowled, and the immense pillar of his cock throbbed up, becoming even bigger. It lurched and pulsed, slapping against his chest in time with his heartbeat — or whatever passed for a heartbeat in his body now. It was as thick around as his entire scrawny-ass body, the head almost level with _his_ head; Ebon could just tilt his head down and suck on the head. It was a little gay, if you asked Hotstreak.

"Man, what'd you even do with that thing? You ain't gonna be able to fit it anywhere." Hotstreak looked down at his own cock, rock hard and jutting up from a messy tangle of reddish pubes. He was gigantic all over, his cock swollen immensely, but fuck, he was glad he hadn't gotten himself a soda-bottle, two-foot-long cock in the deal. What the fuck was he gonna do with something like that? "But if we're gonna do this I got something bigger to show off too." If Ebon wanted to have a fucking cock-size contest that was his own deal, but if they were gonna do it Hotstreak was gonna _win_.

His cock lit up, tongues of flame lapping across his stomach and thighs, slowly curling tighter around his pubes, snarling together into a flaming mass as they touched the base of his cock. Hotstreak groaned, his cock shuddering and jerking, a sizzling hiss of precome dripping from his cock and evaporating away in an instant. It felt _incredible_. His fire was its own kind of pleasure, roaring heat all across his skin, painful in a distant way but like a thousand pins pricking across his body. This was something else altogether, fire roaring across his crotch, slowly twining up the length of his cock. His precome sizzled up in abrupt flares, hissing like a skillet for a second as the fire covered the head of his cock.

Hotstreak threw his head back and groaned, cock pulsing wildly. He wondered what it would be like to come like this. The fire spiraled further, out from his body, rippling and twisting and spreading further until his cock matched Ebon's, a leg-thick pillar, ridiculously long, jutting up and out from his body like an obscene candle. It almost touched Ebon, the light of it scattering strangely across his shadow. Then Hotstreak tensed, the entire thing bulking up bigger and longer, definitely beating out Ebon's size.

He'd had meant to say something insulting, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a low, shaking moan. His cock felt like it was on fire. It _was_ on fire; it was so hot it felt like a physical thing around him, a tight glove squeezing down all along his cock. The muscles in his stomach and legs twitched, spasming uncontrollably, and he came in a sudden burst of vapor and flame, his come reducing to steam inside him and spurting out in misty vapor, curling in trails across the tip of his cock. Hotstreak staggered back, slamming against the wall and almost sagging down to his knees.

"Oh fuck," he finally managed, his cock twitching and jerking inside the massive wreath of flame. "Yeah, oh, fuck," he grunted, breath coming fast, voice hoarse and deep.

Ebon was staring at him, face inscrutable, his cock throbbing bigger and bigger, thicker and thicker around, a constant drool of black slime coming from the tip. He reached up, arms stretching like taffy as he covered the distance between them, too-wide, too-long hands wrapping across Hotstreak's shoulders and neck and pulling him down.

They tumbled across the floor. Ebon's hands branched and branched, becoming frond-like tentacles that wrapped around Hotstreak's immense, bullish neck, and clenched tight. Hotstreak didn't even notice. He was feeling their bodies rutting together, Ebon slick and slimy without actually being _wet_ , just dry and cool and dark. Their cocks rubbed between them, bright and burning and dark and slick.

Ebon shoved him back and Hotstreak let him. He sprawled onto his back and Ebon straddled him. What used to be his hands wove and slid through the air, wrapping around Hotstreak's cock, sizzling and melting as they touched.

His cock was insubstantial, just heat and light, but _he_ could stroke it, the fire sizzling across his hands, eddies in its current licking across his cock. He moaned, precome sizzling out of his cock, and it was like a steam explosion, loud hisses and sputters as the liquid boiled off his skin.

Ebon was so close his skin looked burnt from the heat of his cock. His shadow skin was cracked and uneven, but he didn't act like it was hurting him. The surface of his cock and stomach looked... darker, thicker and more solid, and as Hotstreak stared boils erupted across the length of his cock, where it was pressed near his. They burst after a second and Ebon hissed, in pain or in pleasure he couldn't tell. Ebon's skin was weeping, something slick and black oozing out of him, trickling over the thickened craters from the boils, and instead of acting like that was weird or gross Ebon moaned and rocked against him, his massive club of a cock smacking solidly against Hotstreak's side, leaving dark smears. Ebon straddled one of his legs, the shadowy flesh all across his stomach and chest bubbling away as he pressed against Hotstreak's cock. Ebon grabbed his bare shoulders, hands flexing into whiplike tentacles winding across his chest and arms as Ebon pulled him close.

"I'm going to fuck you," Ebon growled in his ear, completely ignoring how his stomach and cock were practically melting like wax, pressed against — into — Hotstreak's fiery cock, flames shifting and spiraling up the illusory length.

Ebon shoved him back, skidding back against the floor, and his melted body reformed, if anything, even bigger, and less humanoid. His cock jutted out from a formless skirt of shadow, dripping something black and shiny in a long string from the head. His chest and stomach only vaguely resembled human anatomy, stretched and attenuated in places, thickened absurdly in others, and bubbled all over with boils, oozing black shining slime. Ebon reached down, coating a dozen tendril-fingers with the slime oozing from his wounds, and then wrapped them around and around his cock, slicking it up, his fingers merging together with his dick and then reforming, thickening it further.

Ebon reached forward, his fingers brushing across Hotstreak's chest. They were a thousand tiny branching filaments, melting across Hotstreak's chest and bubbling from the heat. His skin looked burnt afterward, smooth and shiny, and Hotstreak supposed it _was_ burnt. It didn't feel burnt; it felt hotter and even more sensitive, the burning, bubbling lines of black shadowy goop leaving broad pale smooth tracks across his chest as it sizzled its way down his body.

On second thought, the burnt tracks _itched_. His whole body itched, covered in sweat and black goo, hair grown out and scruffy across his legs and arms, up along his stomach. He flickered and caught fire as he moved closer to Ebon, tongues of flame gusting up along his entire body and pluming from his head, and his skin sizzled like a skillet as the slime and sweat burnt off. Hotstreak's entire body seemed to pulse and waver in time with his pluming flame, and when he inhaled he felt the fire scorch down his throat, becoming an inferno somewhere in his chest.

He reached out and grabbed Ebon's arm, melting and dripping over his flaming fingers. "I'm gonna fuck _you_ ," he said, puffs of flame emerging from his mouth with each word, and Ebon didn't look at all displeased by that. They pressed together, Ebon's front melting and streaming down, oozing thick across Hotstreak's giant body. Hotstreak pinned Ebon against a wall, as much as it was possible when Ebon sunk halfway through, his body melting down between them. Ebon arched up to Hotstreak's touch, his cock almost as big as his entire body and twisted into a spiky spiraling seashell shape, melting like a lit candle.

Covered in the black slime, Hotstreak's hands felt even _more_ itchy. It twitched and slid across him, full of tendrils and connections inside the goop, but that wasn't it. It felt gritty and oily and smooth all at once, weirdly abrasive, and Hotstreak turned up his flame, fire bursting through across his knuckles, crawling up the backs of his hands as the shadow evaporated under the heat and light. It felt fuckin' fantastic. Ebon oozed against his front, his shadow all melting down, slopping to the ground, and the bubbling goo splattered all across Hotstreak's front. His skin got shiny, flushing red and then white, as it started to bubble up in boils. Hotstreak moaned and lurched forward, spearing Ebon through with his cock, pressing himself almost inside Ebon's melting body.

It was an itch in the back of his head, a stubborn irritation that just wouldn't go away. His powers felt phenomenal, boundless, like he was drawing on a limitless inferno, but he felt heavy and weighed-down and lurching and slow compared to the fire that flickered across his body, streaking back in an imagined wind. He'd been holding back, keeping his flame ruled in, but when he finally let it loose it felt fantastic.

His personal inferno billowed outwards, the fire edging from red to yellow and then a marvelous incandescent white. His hands crackled, Ebon's shadow burning entirely away just in time to reveal his skin crisping and blackening. His fingers twitched, and massive rents tore in his skin, revealing the rich purple-pink muscle and yellowish tendons inside his hand, all of them going up in flame, burning and boiling and finally charring black. His fingers twitched again and partly crumbled away, lumps of charcoal flaking apart to reveal his tendons and bones, black and greasy, charred black.

He smelled like roast pork. His skin felt hard and rough, thick and hampering all over, more like a lobster shell than proper skin, and as he moved, breathed, gasped, it all tore apart. His body burst outwards, blood and clear lymph bubbling and boiling out of him, burning to a crisp as he exhaled a clean, bright plume of fire.

His bones sagged as his muscles cooked and then charred, the tendons and ligaments remaining fractionally longer before they broke and burnt away in a smear. It left him feeling empty and light. Loose and relaxed, balanced on the tip of his whirling inferno, steady.

His teeth burst into shrapnel, one by one. The rest of his bones cracked apart with sharp snaps as his marrow vented out, bubbling and boiling, vaporizing in the heat. He ground against himself, cracked and splintered bones twisting and slowly grinding into powder, a shell of broken bone dust surrounding his joints as the last of his body went up, hair flying away from his scalp, sizzling and smelling awful as it all incinerated, leaving him with a long whipping tongue of flame forking from the back of his skull. He opened his mouth, feeling with his tongue — his tongue, that wasn't a muscle so much as an eddy in the maelstrom of fire he'd become — across his sharp, disconnected teeth and open cheeks.

Ebon was a sizzling dark pool across the floor, boiling and popping like a tar pit, and so Hotstreak slowly reigned himself in, fire spiraling and contracting down until he was vaguely humanoid, centered around the broken shreds of his skeleton. The cabin was slagged, metal warped and bent, glass shattered and then melted into puddles. The wall he'd been standing against was bulged back, the metal incandescing red.

It was harder to see darkness now; he cast light out in all directions. But Ebon emerged again, bulging up from the floor, gathering up his shadow from where it had spread across the floor. And Ebon... Ebon was so dark it hurt to look at. He'd been like a flat black shadow, like an unexpected person-shaped hollow in a wall leading to a dark, empty space. Now it was like he sucked the light out of the room, a vortex that ate up light and sound and material. The air around his inhuman figure was hazy, black-purple, and it felt like at the center of Ebon's uneven silhouette there was black light pouring out, like something from deep space, between galaxies.

"Hotstreak," Ebon said, and his _voice_ was unchanged, the same low cutting angry tone. It was the most human thing about him. Hotstreak figured he didn't have room to complain about inhumanity.

Hotstreak lurched over to him, darting in the flash of an eye, in a arc of flame, and took Ebon's head in his hands and kissed him. He didn't have lips; if Ebon _had_ lips he didn't now. His shadow was tougher, darker, bleaker, and he could feel Ebon press back for a moment before they both softened, his fire guttering, Ebon's blank face streaking down like wax to the floor. Ebon kissed back, probably. His face split and split again, into uneven pseudopods, and they arced over Hotstreak's head, wrapping around the plates of his skull and pulling them back together, mushing their heads together. Ebon melted down Hotstreak's skull, dripping down through his throat to coat his spine. Hotstreak moaned, mouth full of that painfully dark shadow, and it felt surreally like biting down into ice cream.

Ebon shoved him back, and Hotstreak let himself topple to the ground, the movement feeling like it took forever as his weight — not so much now — shifted and went out from under him. Ebon straddled him, his ridiculous, oversized cock throbbing straight up in the air, streaks like wax streaming down the shaft. It was still the most human thing about him. Ebon's thighs — too many of them — pressed against his femurs, darkness flowing along the grooves of his bones as Ebon sunk down, melting, evaporating, and Hotstreak reached up and grabbed Ebon's wrists, flipping them backwards until he was on top of Ebon, his body sunk into the floor and spreading out.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Hotstreak said, and it felt like his voice caught in his throat, even though he didn't have a throat or even vocal cords anymore. Ebon just moaned and jerked up against him.

Ebon was melted, gasping, dissolving into the floor, black shadow spreading underneath them like they were on the surface of a deep, dark lake, bang gas like mist drifting over him. Hotstreak leaned over him, his cock flaring out, huge and erect, sparks of flame leaping out from the end. Hotstreak arched down, staring as Ebon's stomach dimpled and caved around his cock, pressing into him through his body.

Ebon's legs — hell, his entire body — were a vague bulge, just some humanoid parts on the top of the massive dark empty _space_ around Hotstreak. Hotstreak raised his legs, feet a toe-less block, and thrust in between them, into Ebon's body. He didn't have any orifices, not really, but he still kept on his ridiculous oversized dick, and Hotstreak aimed below it, around the vague swell of his ass, boring his cock into Ebon's body.

Ebon jerked, making a sound like a moan as Hotstreak pushed into him, his shadow weeping and melting around the ragged hole where Hotstreak shoved inside him. Ebon's cock twitched and shuddered, cloudy streams of darkness pouring out the tip and coating his body, making his form even blurrier.

Hotstreak grabbed on, his chest, his wrist, the few parts of him left that looked anything like what a human would look like, and started thrusting. Ebon bubbled and melted, streaking as Hotstreak's cock sunk into him and pulled back.

His hands — the same branching tendrils, like the fronds of a weeping willow — were clenched tight around Hotstreak's arms, constantly dissolving and reforming, sliding wildly with each thrust as Ebon's grip spasmed and slipped. Ebon moaned, the sound coming from all around him, the dark walls of the space they were in pulsing with each thrust.

Ebon's chest glowed, light shining through his glossy, melting skin. A blur shone across his chest, banded light and dark by his ribs, fading into a darker orange-red under his stomach and hips. Ebon's cock was rock hard, ooze streaking down the shaft. Maybe he was coming. Maybe he'd been coming for a while; it was hard to tell.

Hotstreak snarled and arched forward, slamming his cock into Ebon; their bodies pressed so tight together he could feel the whorl of his pelvis push against Ebon's streaked, melted thighs. He thrust harder, his skeleton smacking wetly against Ebon's ass as it slowly steamed and dissolved, long ribbons of ooze interpenetrating him, streaking over his bones as he plowed back and forth.

Ebon's tentacles curled around his legs and waist, thick strands forming from the dissolved mess slopping against their hips as they fucked. The tentacles clutched around him, tugging what was left of Ebon's body down on his cock, wrapping around his pelvis to pull him forward, deeper into Ebon, so deep his bones pressed tight against Ebon's body as it dissolved around him. He was immersed in the slime, his legs completely coated, vines twisting around and around his femurs and pushing between his tibia and fibula.

The light of his dick, through Ebon's chest, flared brighter until it was too bright to even look at. His ribs were like faint shadows across the glowing surface of his body, swollen and melting, light shining in shimmering lines across the surface of his skin as Hotstreak thrust.

Ebon's chest caved in as his cock burst out of him, a hollow noise like a sigh escaping his throat. Ebon's waxy flesh burnt away like plastic film, curling away from his cock. The heat and fire and wind of it practically gusted through Ebon's hollow chest as the head jabbed out from the center of his chest. Hotstreak jerked his cock back and forth, watching it slip inside the dark, hollow cavity of Ebon's chest, steam billowing out as Ebon's skin evaporated.

Hotstreak felt dizzy, his head foggy and his mind overwhelmed. The burning consuming him seemed too much, and his vision whited out, becoming just a blur of fire. He came like he'd never come before. His entire body whipped into plumes of fire, his body sizzling against Ebon's. His cock twisted and furled, blooming outward in a maelstrom of white-hot fire. He exhaled slowly, and through the incandescence he could just barely make out the afterimage of an uneven flower of flame arcing out of him.

His fire furled away and died down, white-yellow dying down to a flickering orange-red in an instant. His breath hung in the air for a fraction of a second longer before it spun apart, curling into nothing. He sagged back, panting.

Ebon's tarry shadow clung to his skeleton, spitting and hissing unenthusiastically, and in front of him was an inhuman lump, what was left of Ebon's body, just a mounded heap of darkness. His legs were entirely coated in it, his fire almost quenched by the thick layers of darkness wrapped around him. It bubbled up slowly, evaporating, burning, and Hotstreak shakily got to his feet, still gasping for breath.

Ebon's slack tentacles, wrapped all around his lower body, smeared up across his spine and ribs, abruptly snapped to life, locking him in place. The practically sloshing sea of shadow around him froze, eddies and peaks going rigid as it all locked together in a single solid mass. He strained against it and the ooze bulged up around him, but it held.

Currents shifted across his lower body, the swampy sea of slime shuddering and twisting as tapering, wormlike things writhed up out of it, their sides etched like seashells. They flexed and shook, twining together and slopping back into the ground, but the ones closest to him curled towards him, their gritty-smooth sides wrapping around his arms and chest and pinning them in place even as they melted, streaking over his bones.

"Now let's see how you like it," Ebon said, his lips suddenly pressing against the side of Hotstreak's skull, where his ears had been. Hotstreak jerked to the side, trying to look behind him, but the tentacles around his scapula held fast. Heavy wet sounds came from behind him, and something wet and dripping touched his lower spine and smeared across his false ribs as Ebon walked — slid, oozed, whatever — around to his front. Hotstreak looked down, watching Ebon's hand — a branching tentacle that just happened to sprout from somewhere near where a shoulder would have been — ooze across his naked body, his dark skeleton, leaving behind a thick smear of oil that wiggled and inched as it dripped down into him.

Ebon's body was nowhere near humanoid; his head was mostly intact on top of a huge tapering pyramidal spiral, but it branched and wove together in a shifting, oozing mess, so dark it felt like it was sucking the light out of the room.

"I wonder if you'd like getting fucked until you fall apart," Ebon said, a tentacle whipping up to caress his jaw, pushing at the hinge between his jaw and skull. Another slid down between his legs to spiral around his cock to start sucking softly, mostly just melting against the pillar of flame, slopping and melting as it pressed against him. "I'll find out."

"Why don't you." Hotstreak rocked forward, pushed himself up against Ebon.

Ebon rose up behind him, his body slowly melting away from in front. The ooze flooded over him in a swampy wave, covering his legs and lapping at his bare hips. He grabbed Hotstreak and pulled against him, his arms this time seeming _almost_ humanoid; they had the right number of digits and joints, even if they were all twining tentacles, complete with octopus-like suckers on his fingertips.

Hotstreak spread his legs, bracing against the wall as Ebon shifted behind him. He could feel the blunt tip of Ebon's cock heavy against curve of his spine, so absurdly huge it probably would have dwarfed Ebon's actual body. "Fuck, man, don't get all..."

"Shut up," Ebon said, looming forward and pressing himself against Hotstreak's body with a wet squish, his cock hammering and twisting all along Hotstreak's spine.

"Yeah right, you think you can—" his voice stopped with a bizarre and pointless rattle as Ebon wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed, his fingers melting down his spine.

"I said, shut up."

"Fuck you," Hotstreak said, his voice strained and raspy, not because he needed to breathe but just because it seemed to be something that happened. "You got issues, man."

Ebon's cock was the most human thing on him. It was bloated and distorted, the head flattened in places and bulging out in others, ringed with backwards-facing spikes, with huge spherical beads sunk around the edge and down the shaft, but compared to the rest of him...

Ebon's hands spiraled around Hotstreak, twining around all his bones and lasting just long enough before they melted to coat him in darkness. Ebon pulled him back, until his spine pressed against Ebon's front, his massive cock slowly dripping down all across his back.

Ebon drew back, his body stretching and shifting like taffy as his cock slid down and pressed against his pelvis. It was so thick it barely scraped through the hollow between the halves of his pelvis, and he was so intensely hot inside that Ebon's cock kept melting as fast as he could shove more inside, his shadow splattering against the inside of Hotstreak's ribs and pooling across his pelvis, streaking darkly down his legs.

And it _felt_ like getting fucked; the scrape and splash of it sliding inside him felt like rough penetration, like being filled up. Jolts of pleasure ran through Hotstreak's body, scorching up his spine and diffusing across his stomach. His cock pulsed, spurting fire erratically, and as he breathed he started to spit fire again in wispy curls. He could feel Ebon's cock inside him when he breathed in; the whirl of air caught around the shapeless lumpy pillar of it.

Ebon growled and shoved forward, slamming his weight against Hotstreak, and he stumbled and staggered forward, practically glued together by the morass of dark slime inside him. Ebon kept pushing more in without even moving, his cock pouring inside him, drawing material from the rest of his immense, inhuman body.

Hotstreak came blindingly, sagging back into Ebon's embrace as his cock exploded in a fury of light, the crackle of fire drowning out the patter of slime pouring out of him, and in the dimness that followed Ebon thrust hard into him, shoving so much inside he hilted into his chest cavity, oozing out over his ribs as he overflowed. Ebon howled, cursing as he moved his body, thrusting back and forth wildly, slamming against Hotstreak's pelvis. Darkness webbed out between them, strands gathering all across his back and trailing back and forth in a sloppy mess, fire catching across the strands as they melted. Ebon came, or did something like coming, and darkness completely flooded his insides, pouring through his ribs, flooding up along his spine and pooling in the back of his mouth.

Ebon grabbed Hotstreak and shoved hard into him, his face — just a dark hollow with lips and a writhing tongue, spitting out curses and insults in ragged breaths — pressed tight against Hotstreak's skull. His hands wrapped all over his body and squeezed as he thrust, his legs dimpling against Hotstreak's and then bursting as he thrust hard enough to push them inside him, slowly shoving Hotstreak's burning body in past the surface of his dark form.

Hotstreak came again, howling, fire burning up the rest of the room. The walls creaked and bulged, rivets softening and bending out of shape. Hotstreak panted for breath as Ebon kept pushing into him, his limbs slowly vanishing inside Ebon's own body. He could feel it all around him, the darkness vaporizing and catching but being replaced instantly by more.

It twined into lumpy sinews and muscles around his bones, and standing on his shaky legs very quickly became a trial of working with Ebon, their bodies shifting together as Hotstreak sunk further into Ebon's shadowy slime. Fire traced up the outer curve of their conjoined legs, Ebon's darkness not resisting the light so much as sucking the heat from it, and together they stood, awkwardly conjoined mid-thigh. Hotstreak's femurs erupted from the mess of their legs, Ebon's shadow peeling back, but slowly his fire spread lower, sizzling over Ebon's skin, raising boils as thin, dark tendons probed upward, webbing over his hips.

Hotstreak sunk deeper inside Ebon, flame wreathing across both of their bodies. It felt like he was coming constantly; with each shallow, panting breath he spit out a mouthful of fire. His cock had unfurled into a white-hot flower, petals of flame spiraling out across his hips and stomach, pulsing and spitting as the shadow crept up his thighs, up his arms.

He threw his head back and unexpectedly came into contact with Ebon's head. The collision sunk him halfway inside his head, darkness flaming and spitting all around him as he sunk deeper, as Ebon drew himself up around him. His face vanished inside him with a sound like dry leaves crunching underfoot. For a second he couldn't see; couldn't breathe — he wasn't sure if he _needed_ to breathe still, but it sure _felt_ like it — but then he felt Ebon burst into flame, all across his head and back, and then he could.

Their conjoined body was lumpy and misshapen still, with half his skeleton still outside. His ribs lurched out from their horrific body, long lean limbs forming over his bones, and the pooled darkness around them was stringy and patchy where it wasn't curled around him, slopping up around them as they finally bothered to form _feet_ , standing atop the great sea of blackness.

They pulled together, both of them moving their limbs in different directions, stumbling and staggering as Hotstreak's hips sunk into Ebon; as Ebon pulled himself over Hotstreak's hips. Of course the first thing Ebon did was form them a cock, something long and lumpy and spiky and twisted and gigantic, oozing out from their hips, and if Hotstreak had the breath he would have made fun of him for it.

As it was, Ebon reached forward to touch it, (or maybe it was him who did it) and just that light touch felt like an explosion all through his body, sensation impossibly detailed, like every nerve firing at the same time. Hotstreak gasped, slime rattling in his throat, and sunk back bonelessly, Ebon hadn't fared much better; his encroaching darkness shuddered and went still as they stroked off, their cock twining and twisting around their arm. Fire spread up the length, adding swells and eddies, jetting off the heavy spikes in great plumes, and then it was Ebon's turn to shudder and gasp, his mouth half-overlapped with Hotstreak's, gasping and sucking against the back of his jaw, licking across the top of his spine.

Ebon oozed up over his ribs, filling in the hollow of his torso, fire whipping up over the remnants of his shadow like a burning oil slick, both of them pulling into the other until the final curve of his blackened bone was covered by Ebon's darkness. Flame lit up all across their body, red tinging white-purple, and... they weren't suddenly _connected_ ; he didn't even want to _think_ about how gross it would be to be inside Ebon's head, but they had a whole lot less trouble moving around.

They staggered forward, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling out, absurdly long, halfway down their chest. The air was still hazy with gas, and they opened wide, their skin puckering open all over as they sucked the air through them, the residual gas burning inside them as the haze cleared. They kept jerking off, Hotstreak not sure exactly if it was mostly Ebon or mostly him doing it, stroking and touching all along their completely absurd cock. He'd have to see if he could control the shapeshifting-ooze parts; it was gonna be fuckin' humiliating if they had to walk around everywhere with some grotesque monster cock dragging behind them.

They were spitting fire, plumes of heat rippling the air in front of them, their cock pulsing and twisting like a wild animal, practically thrashing around between their spread legs, and it was a little surreal for Hotstreak to abruptly realize Ebon hadn't bothered to shift them up any balls. He stroked down, definitely him this time, to the massively-thick base, their skin — skin-like surface — ridged up in firm wrinkles across their stomach and thighs, radiating out from their cock. Hotstreak rubbed back and forth where their balls should have been, firm ridged skin between their thighs, nothing but the smooth ripple of their fake muscles there.

He laughed, or, Ebon did, probably, and their skin welled under his fingers, the biggest fuckin' set of balls he'd ever seen descending, forming between his hips like a heavy pit and squeezing through his hips. They were like lumpy basketballs, oblong, and he could even feel the long coiled tubes running through their tight sack, twining up into their body.

"You're such a size queen," he said, realizing how he said it how schizophrenic their conversation would be. Ebon laughed afterwards, and Hotstreak felt the same squeezing pressure inside him as _another_ pair of balls descended, taking up so much space between their thighs he didn't think they'd be able to _walk_ without crushing them.

He stroked along their cock, reaching down to trace over their absurdly-huge balls, pulled up tight just below their cock, all four of them sensitive far beyond what he'd imagined possible. The lightest touches sent pleasure so sharp it hurt through him, and when he cupped one of them in his hand and pushed down, squeezing it gently, the pressure and friction pulling a rough groan from their mouth.

"Hey," Hotstreak rasped, trying to pull back from their cock only to find Ebon kept them stroking, leaning down slightly to curl their tongue around their cock. "Hey," he said again, voice muffled with their tongue otherwise occupied. "You can sit here and jerk off for as long as you want, but whaddya say we go after Static and Gear first? We need to take them out!"

He was almost completely incomprehensible, words blunted by their tongue hanging out, the long, _long_ muscle writhing around their cock as he tried to talk. But Ebon seemed to get the gist of it, and together they jerked to their feet, their cock (and balls, and tongue, and _mouth_ ) melting back inside their body, leaving behind smooth, flat surfaces. It still felt like hands were working over their cock, internally, the sensation cramped and hot, and it was a little hard to focus on walking.

"I get Static," Ebon said, the lack of a mouth not stopping them from speaking as they almost absently tore through the hull and climbed up the side of the ship.

"Whatever. Don't care, you can have both of them, I just want them out of our way," Hotstreak said. "Your crazy ass wants to take over the town, well, I got some things I want myself; I'm sure we can work something out." He grinned, shaping them enough to form a toothy maw in roughly the right place, and grinning more when he felt Ebon match the expression. If it were possible, he would've kissed the guy.


End file.
